


The Violinist

by FallenWren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Time, College Student Eren Yeager, Dark Past, Eventual Levi/Eren Yeager, Levi has a cool coat, Light Angst, M/M, New York City, POV Eren Yeager, Street corner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenWren/pseuds/FallenWren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikasa and Armin have made an unwanted announcement. </p><p>The two of them are moving to Europe, but Eren, who hasn't finished school yet, must stay back in the states.  Eren finds himself wandering the streets of New York City, no destination in mind, trying to keep moving.  He can't let himself explode again.  </p><p>That is, until he he sees a man on a street corner.</p><p>A beautiful man, in a beautiful coat, pouring his heart into his music.</p><p>And that which pushes the other listeners away is drawing Eren in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encounter on a Street Corner

“Fine! Leave for all I care, Mikasa! I don’t need you anyways!” The words weren’t true, and Eren knew that. Mikasa knew that too. But, then why? Why was she leaving him? 

The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off the shocked faces of Armin and Mikasa. 

Eren’s feet carried him down the hall, not sure where he was going, only sure that he needed to go somewhere. Do something. He heard the door to the apartment open behind him, and quickened his pace. 

Mikasa’s voice followed him down the hall. “Eren! Come back! We need to discuss this.” 

Armin’s voice joined that of Mikasa’s, “Eren, you’re being unreasonable. “ And then when he realized that Eren wasn’t going to stop, “Eren! Please listen! Eren!!” 

Armin hardly ever raised his voice, and it was almost enough to make Eren turn around. Turn around and possibly embrace his best friend and apologize for allowing his emotions to, once again, compromise his decision-making. He was hurting Armin, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

But if he turned around, what would he even say to them? Yes, it’s fine that you are leaving me here alone. I don’t mind that you are both going to Europe to do something with your lives while I’m stuck here finishing school. Never mind the fact that I’m so pitiful I failed enough classes to put me a year behind. You are both doing things and going places. I should be happy for you, but I’m angry. I’m stuck here. Stagnant. 

“Eren!” It was Mikasa again, and her tone was growing more insistent. “You know I can catch up to you!”

Yes, Eren knew that. If Mikasa decided to chase him down there was no way in hell he would even make it to the bottom of the stairwell. But he needed this. He needed to be alone to process everything. Mikasa was his sister. She knew him better than anyone, and Eren desperately hoped that she would understand. 

“Eren!” Mikasa yelled after him again, and Eren didn’t miss the tinge of desperation in his name. 

He turned to face his sister. Mikasa’s eyes were full of concern. And that could only mean one thing; Mikasa understood that he needed to be alone. She took a half step towards him, but didn’t ask for him to come back in and talk. She just made the same request Eren had heard his entire life. 

“Please be safe.” 

And as angry and confused as Eren was, he still gave Mikasa a brief nod. She deserved at least that much. He pushed open the door to the stairwell and made his hurried way down to the bottom, skipping steps, and burst out onto the busy streets of New York City.  
And he immediately felt better.

Not completely erased of his internal tumult, because that was unlikely to ever happen, but better, certainly better. The cold, December air filled his lungs, stinging in a pleasant way, and Christmas lights twinkled behind windows. 

But mostly, it was the people that eased his frantic thoughts. He loved the people of New York City. He stood for a moment, watching, gauging the flow of the people around him.

To the left was a young businessman on his way home; he was clothed in a suit, and his tie was loosened around his neck. The man walked with the easy swagger of a man confident of his place in the world, fists curled loosely by his sides, and a tilt of the chin that erred just on the side of arrogance. 

Eren let out a huff of cold air that billowed out around his mouth, and knew he was about to indulge in one of his favorite games. He waited until the man had gone past him and then stepped into the flow of people right behind him. Tilt the chin up; Eren studied the man ahead of him. Not quite. Just a little bit more. There it is. That perfect angle of confidence. 

No longer was he Eren, the failure, but Eren, a businessman with a promising career ahead of him. As he had walked out of work earlier today, his boss had given him a hearty clap on the shoulder and a conspiratorial wink. A promotion was coming his way. Yes, this was a man who knew what he was doing. 

Adopting the personas of people around him was something Eren had been doing for a long, long time. Ever since his mother’s death, and his father’s consequent abandonment, Eren had found comfort in strangers. But not in a hugs and kisses sort of way. He was a thief, and a very skilled one. Those he stole from remained completely oblivious. Completely unaware of a certain brown haired boy with a strange gleam in his eyes who had just stolen existence and twisted it into his own. It was a painless procedure. Eren made sure to always do no harm. But he never thought about himself, and his soul that was turning to dust. 

Who was Eren really? He had lost himself over these years. Mikasa and Armin had picked up some of the pieces, but there was one thing missing. It was right at the very core of who he was. It was empty, and Eren couldn’t find it.

Eren lost track of the amount of time he spent wandering the streets of New York City. He was like a backwards ghost. His body was there, but he wasn’t. He kept finding and then discarding personas. He convinced himself that the charade was helping him, quieting his confusion, so he continued on.

Until he saw something that stopped him. 

It was a man on the street corner. A man with a violin. He was wearing dark grey skinny jeans, and a black shirt. A forest green pea coat hung loosely around his shoulders, unbuttoned. His eyes were closed and he swayed ever so slightly, body moving to the rhythm his hands were creating. 

The music was unnerving. Unnerving, but beautiful. It was full of dissonant notes and dramatic dynamics. It snapped Eren from the vicious cycle he had fallen into and back into his own body. And the longer he listened, the calmer he felt about his fight with Armin and Mikasa.

The violinist was like a rock in a stream. People parted around him, leaving distance between the man with the dancing fingers and themselves. Perhaps it was the unsettling music keeping the people away, but Eren could see another reason. It was the look of subtle anguish upon the violinist’s face. A faint pull of the eyebrows and a tightness of the lips. 

Eren pulled himself out of the onrushing flow of people and into the lee of a light pole a few feet away from the man. He wanted to study this man’s pain further, for he could see something of himself reflected in his expression. That which turned other people away was drawing him in. 

Eren let himself slide down the light pole, coming to rest on the cold ground. Propping his chin in a hand, he focused his full attention upon the violinist.

The man had delicate features, a thin nose and thin lips, and the fingers moving over the strings were long and delicate. His feet were set apart, and his was posture erect, so despite his obvious short stature, he appeared not weak, but forceful. 

Eren watched as the piece the man was playing came to a dramatic conclusion, spiraling upwards and gaining in intensity. The melody was lost in a flurry of sixteenth notes. 

Damn, this man sure knew what he was doing. 

His playing was gorgeous. Eren knew nothing about music, and he had no idea if the man was playing an actual piece or just improvising, but his skill was obvious. Despite the growing complexity of the piece, the furrow in the man’s brow was smoothing out. 

A few people drifted out of the flow of people, attention caught by the intensity. They did not stay for long though, either driven away by the unsettling chords or the subtly desperate look on the man’s face. Eren could hear the tumult of the violinist’s life filling the air. And he was curious. What had driven the man to this condition?

He wasn’t looking for money; his violin case was securely closed and resting next to the light pole Eren was leaning against. Eren reached a hand out a laid it on the case. It was made of a polished wood, with brass furnishings. Carved into the case was a symbol, but it was too dark to make it out. Perhaps a pair of wings? 

Eren noticed that a dark-haired woman had been watching the violinist longer than the average passerby. Her expression could only be described as dangerous, and Eren felt a surge of protection towards the unnamed violinist. The man’s eyes were closed, completely unaware of the woman who was growing closer with every sweep of the bow. 

Eren was fighting the urge to do something, it was none of his business really, when the bow slowed its rapid pace and the fingers ceased to be just a blur upon the strings.

And the violinist opened his eyes. 

His eyes were stunning. Yes, stunning was the only word for them. Eren felt himself startle and saw, in his peripheral vision, that the sight had caused the same affect on the dark-haired woman.

Even from several feet away, Eren’s breath was taken away by the sheer… drama of the violinist’s eyes. A storm gray, but with a curtain pulled across. Concealing all emotion. They were narrow just like the rest of his features, and filled with a cynical intelligence. Underneath were dark circles indicative of either an insomniac or of a man in a perpetual state of distress.

And as the last note died away, they flickered over to look directly at Eren.

Eren couldn’t breathe. Those stunning grey eyes were locked with his own, and his breath was no longer his own. And while he could feel the heat rising up his neck, the man made no change of expression. The furrow, which had been erased at the height of his playing, was back in his brow, but it neither lessened nor increased upon pinning Eren with the full intensity of his gaze. He did not even seem to notice or care that Eren was sitting so close to his case. 

The dark-haired woman, who had been drawing nearer, broke the charged moment. As she moved into the violinist’s direct proximity, the man’s eyes snapped away from Eren’s, leaving Eren slumped back against the light pole, all energy drained from the intensity of the encounter. 

The woman did not so much as walk, as prowl. Her hips swayed a disproportionate amount in comparison to the amount of movement actually needed. Her head was angled down, and she looked up through her eyelashes. The man did nothing to halt her advancement, and the woman must have taken this as a sign of encouragement.

She kept moving forward until her body was pressed up against the violinist’s, and her hand was in his jacket pocket. Still the man offered no signs of reaction, other than to look up slightly, as he was shorter by an inch or two. His expression remained inscrutable. 

The woman spoke now. “Your playing is gorgeous.” Her voice dripped acid honey. 

Eren had to fight an ever-growing urge to intervene. Still not your business Eren. Perhaps the man actually wants to get laid tonight, and his silence is just his way of flirting, but if he shows even the slightest bit of discomfort…

“Thank you,” the violinist said, chin tilted up to meet the eyes of the woman. 

“I thought I would give you something to show my appreciation.” She breathed the words against the violinist’s neck. The man flinched, and Eren half-rose to a standing position, but stopped as the woman pulled her hand out the man’s pocket and took a step back. 

The man said nothing. His face still remained impassive, but Eren noticed his hand tightening on the neck of his instrument. 

“I gave you my number just in case you ever wanted to teach me to play,” the woman purred, reaching down to touch the dark wood of the man’s violin.

To this action, the man did react.

He pivoted on his left foot, bringing his right arm up and around the woman’s neck, the bow at her neck like a sword. His green coat swirled around his ankles, and he pressed his chest against the woman’s back, effectively trapping her within his grasp. For a brief moment his eyes flashed with emotion, but it happened too fast to discern its meaning.

The man’s movements were graceful, that of a dangerous predator. 

Eren jumped to his feet, startled by this sudden action from the man who had remained as stone until this moment. Guess he doesn’t want to get laid tonight... He also does doesn’t seem to need my help. 

I certainly didn’t expect that strong, controlled movement from a man who looks like that.

Eren was even more intrigued now. Who was this man?

The violinist pressed his lips against the woman’s neck, moving them until they were pressed against her ear, and then he whispered something. It must have been a frightening something because the woman’s eyes opened wide and her fingers trembled. She began to nod in agreement, but the man halted her movement, tightening the bow against her neck.

As Eren watched the scene unfold before him, wondering what the man could be saying to provoke such a reaction, a slight mischievous smile curved the corners of the violinist’s mouth. Before Eren could even question this expression, the man sprang into action. 

Removing the bow from around the woman’s neck and taking a step back at the same time, the man gave himself enough time to perform his next action. The bow, which had previously been around the woman’s neck, performed another duty of the sword besides threatening; it stabbed. And it stabbed the woman right in her backside. 

The woman let out a sound that could only be described as a yelp, and jumped into the air, barely contained cleavage threatening to escape. She did not pause after she hit the ground, instead stumbling away. She tripped over her own feet and just barely managed to right her self by grabbing onto an unsuspecting pedestrian.

“That’s the woman who stole my wallet!” The violinist yelled into the crowd at random, pointing in the woman’s general direction. “Someone stop her!” 

Eren watched as the section of sidewalk surrounding him dissolved into chaos. The pedestrian the woman had previously stumbled into heard the violinist’s call and attempted to capture the woman, but she somehow evaded him, and made her floundering way down the sidewalk, bumping into people left and right. Then, she reached the corner and disappeared from Eren’s view. 

Eren couldn’t help himself; he burst into laughter. 

The violinist looked up at the sound of Eren’s laughter, and Eren finally caught a glimpse of a positive emotion in the man’s grey eyes; they looked… amused. Shrugging his shoulders in Eren’s direction, as if to say the chaos wasn’t his fault, the violinist put his violin back up to his shoulder. He raised his bow as if to start playing.

“Wait- what did you say to her?” Eren inquired as he took a step forward. His voice was a bit breathless from laughter, but he had to know what had caused such a volatile reaction. Well, besides the butt poking. 

The violinist cocked his head to the side, considering Eren’s question. For a moment, Eren thought he wouldn’t respond at all, but then, after a beat of silence, he spoke. “I don’t like people touching my violin. That’s all.” His voice was deep, much deeper than Eren had expected, but it was smooth, filling the air with a sound that was much at contrast with his musical playing style. 

And with that not very informative answer, the man put his bow to his strings, and began to play again. His eyes drifted shut, the furrow between his brows became even more pronounced, and it was as though nothing had ever happened.

Eren went back over the light pole and slid down until he was sitting on the ground again. He wanted to stay and listen, learn more about this strange man and his violin. 

And that was when Eren realized that he had been so caught up in the violinist he had totally forgotten his previous anger. 

That had never happened before.


	2. A Trembling Bow

Night was here, and the violinist showed no sign of stopping.  His fingers moved over the strings in a frenzied blur, and despite the chill air, there were beads of sweat gathering at the edges of his undercut.

The violinist’s eyes had not opened since the drama with the dark-haired woman, and there had not been another pause in his playing. Eren did not know much about music, but he was fairly certain songs did not normally last this long.

The music was a song of the man’s own spontaneous invention.                 

That made it more intimate somehow, as though the man was pouring the deepest fears of his heart onto the street for anyone to hear. There was still the occasional traveler on the sidewalk, but the steady flow of evening had decreased into the hesitant trickle of late night.  Eren was the only person listening now.                                        

 

It was a concert for one, but the musician did not know he had an audience.

 

And it was strange; despite having only exchanged a few words with the violinist, Eren felt as though he knew the man.

It was cold now too.  Eren was wearing a hoodie, but with the absence of the sun, the sidewalk had grown cold beneath him, and the chill had long since gone through all his clothes. Eren suppressed a shiver.  It would only grow colder as the night progressed. 

Why was he still here?  Was it morbid fascination?  Did he want to see if the man would continue playing until dawn broke and the world woke up?  What would happen then? After exposing his soul in the sweep of a bow, would he just walk away without a word?  Eren wasn’t sure what compelled him to continue sitting as the minutes ticked by, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. No turning back now.  

How late was it anyways?  Mikasa and Armin would were probably starting to worry about him now, but the worry wouldn’t turn into panic until tomorrow afternoon. Eren had left the apartment in anger many times before and failed to return until the next afternoon. Sometimes he crashed with a friend from school, but normally he just wandered the streets until daybreak.

Each time this happened, Eren would return to the apartment with dark circles underlining red-rimmed eyes, and Mikasa would be waiting.  She would make him a cup of tea, and then in a serious voice that did nothing to disguise the underlying anger, she would extract a promise from Eren that he would never do this again.  But they both knew that such a promise would not keep Eren in place when he wanted to leave.

 

Still, it wasn’t fair of Eren to make Mikasa worry like this. 

 

 _Well, I suppose I could at least send Mikasa a text message to let her know I’m alive,_ Eren thought, straightening his leg out, so he could reach into his pocket and retrieve his phone.  When his fingers didn’t encounter the familiar shape of his phone, he patted down the rest of his pockets, worry increasing with each empty pocket.

“Damn it.”  Eren muttered _._ He thought back through this actions preceding his violent exodus of the apartment and remembered tossing his phone onto his bed earlier that day. 

Eren looked up at the violinist, weighing his options. Eren was loath to leave the man now, but his anger at Mikasa and Armin had settled, and he _had_ promised Mikasa that he would stop making her worry like this…

Maybe the violinist had a phone he could borrow? But then again, the last person to disrupt the man had suffered public humiliation.  Eren wasn’t particularly concerned about being embarrassed, but who knew?  Maybe the man turned violent after the sun went down.  There was no one around to help Eren if that happened to be the case.

As Eren thought about what to do next, a cold wind blew down the street, ruffling the fringe of hair covering the violinist’s forehead and causing his coat to billow out behind him.

The man paused his music for a moment, lifting his bow off the strings to push an errant strand of hair behind an ear. The silence was only there for a moment, but it was startling. 

 

And when he put his bow back down…

The style had completely changed. No longer were the notes swirling through the air in a whirlwind, frantic and pulling at the emotions. They were slower now, long drawn-out tones, bow never leaving the strings. 

The dissonance did not disappear though, and the expression on the man’s face had not changed, becoming, if possible, even more pained. The furrow between his eyebrows had become so deep that his brow was not visible between them.

And the notes came out the violin, harsh notes, both horrifying and beautiful. 

Eren’s concerns about contacting Mikasa were washed away by the sheer _emotion_ of the sound coming from the man’s violin. 

What was this sudden shift?  Eren had been listening for so long now that such a drastic change made him feel uneasy.  The long notes being drawn out of the instrument with a slight vibrato sounded like a dying plea.  A wish for someone, anyone, to rescue the violinist from this hell he was trapped in.

 

An overwhelming desire to somehow quiet this man’s pain overcame Eren, but he resisted.  He could sense that the violinist had a sorrow similar to his anger, escapable only by solitude.  And while Eren escaped by pretending to be others, this man found his comfort in the sweep of a bow. The notes of a song of his own devising.

Eren was startled from his thoughts by a sudden break in the music when the man’s fingers seemed to miss a string. His steady swaying rhythm stopped and the green coat hung still around his shoulders. 

 

The world held its breath, and the ever-present wind came to a standstill. After so long surrounded by the depths of this man’s thoughts, the silence was deafening, suffocating.

 

Was he done playing?  Musically, it seemed like a strange place to stop – right in the middle of a crescendo. 

Eren rose to his feet, suddenly aware of the awkward position he was in.  He had been sitting by this light pole so long now that he had lost track of time. He had probably spent hours listening to this violinist and his tortured notes. 

The violinist had seen Eren the single time he had opened his eyes.  And now it was hours later.

What would the violinist think? When he had closed his eyes hours previously, he had seen a boy sitting by the light pole.  If he opened his eyes now, he would see the same boy, still listening. 

There was no way Eren wasn’t going to look like a creeper. 

But the violinist didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t see Eren. He also didn’t continue to play. Instead he lowered his violin from his shoulder until it hung limp by his side.  The bow followed suit.  His head tilted back, face pointed towards the stars. 

 

And then a ragged sound escaped from between his lips.

Another and another.  Inhale and exhale.

 

It was such a desperate sound. Jagged.  Then the trembling began; starting in his hands, the slight movement exaggerated by the long bow.  A faint tremor, intensifying with every broken breath.

What was happening?  Was he having a fit of some sort?  Eren took a step forward.  He reached a hand into his pocket, ready to call for help, but then remembered that his cell phone was sitting on his bed blocks away.

 

Then a single tear slid down the man’s face.

 

The violinist was crying.

Instead of stopping, Eren moved forward. He didn’t know what sorrow had brought this man to tears, but he couldn’t let it continue.

Emotion expressed in notes had finally broken free into tears. 

 

But, still, the violinist made no sound. No sound except the same ragged breaths. In and out. 

Eren took another step forward. A rational person would leave this man on the street to face his demons alone, especially after seeing his reaction to the dark-haired woman earlier that day, but Eren understood. The violinist was at his breaking point. And leaving him here alone would be wrong. Letting him break would be wrong.

And if Eren could do anything to keep the violinist from shattering, he would.  He knew what destruction felt like.  Fuck solitude; this man needed help, and Eren was the only person around to give it.

His anger and this man’s sorrow. They were not so different.

Eren moved forward until he was standing right next to the violinist.

 

And then he reached a hand out… and wiped away a tear.

 

The violinist gasped at the contact and recoiled backwards, eyes snapping open.

And the moment Eren caught sight of those chaotic eyes, he knew his choice had been the right one.  The curtain was gone, and they were terrified and filled with tears.  They were the eyes of a man who was about to shatter beyond any hope of repair.

"Wha- what?”  The man stuttered in shock, taking a step backwards.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I couldn’t let you break.”  Eren said. 

 

And then Eren gathered the man into his arms, putting the man’s head against his heart.

“Let go of me!” the violinist managed to choke out as he attempted to break Eren’s hold.  But his efforts were weak, and Eren only tightened his arms around his back.

“No.”  Eren spoke the word into the man’s hair.  “I’m not letting go.”

“Let go!”  The command was accompanied by a push to Eren’s chest, but the movement lacked conviction and tears were falling even faster down his face. “Please… I-I just… please let me go.”

“If you really wanted me to let go,” Eren said softly, “you would have kicked me in the balls by now.”

The man let out a sound that was half laugh and half ragged sob. 

And then he gave in, allowing Eren to support his weight.  Eren increased the pressure of his arms around the man’s back, not because the man was heavy, but because he wanted the man to understand something.     

Eren was not going anywhere unless he was forced to.   He would not let this man break, and he would hold him together by the strength of his arms and the force of his will if he needed to. 

Eren felt a shudder move through the violinist, a torn exhalation of despair.  A slight whimper, and then he began crying in earnest.

 

And Eren stood there and held the man as wave after wave of convulsive sobs forced their way out of his throat. The man’s bow arm, which had been hanging by his side came up and wrapped itself around Eren’s back.

As he felt the man’s arm move, Eren allowed himself a small smile.  Yes, this had definitely been the right choice. 

Eren rested his chin on top of the man’s head, but did not make any other motions of comfort.  He did not rub circles against the man’s back.  He did not murmur comforting nothings into his hair.

This was a man who did not seek solace in others. Eren was not holding the man up because it would alleviate his pain; he was holding him up because the man could no longer stand on his own two feet.  Eren would give him some of his own strength, so he would not shatter.

The cold, which had seeped from the hard ground, through Eren’s clothes and into his bones, was cast out by the trembling body held in his arms.  Only the wet spot against his heart, caused by the man’s tears, was still cold.  

 

There were no words spoken as the two of them stood on that sidewalk in the middle of the night.  Two shadows under the streetlight. One already fragmented and one held together only by the grace of stranger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone liked it! I certainly had fun writing this chapter. Leave me a comment if you have any suggestions. :)


End file.
